Arrival in Merida

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

We arrived in Merida after hours upon hours at the Raleigh-Durham Airport and Houston Airport. Customs and immigrations took an eternity since only two booths were open, a result of the late hour, and sadly no stamp or visa in my passport, though I did get a tiny form with stamps on it to keep inside my passport during the duration of my stay. I felt like the diva of the group with all her luggage, except for Sharon who had equally as much. Such comments as “Oh my god, your suitcase is enormous,” or “Shit, we could fit you in there,” don’t help to lesson the glares of my classmates, though two in particular seem to have gone out of their way to make me feel like an overdressed, over-packed, high-maintenance Paris Hilton. I predict that in the days to follow they will discover that they are unprepared and lacking certain necessities. In fact, I am told that if I’m not careful someone might just slice off my ear for my earrings. When people make such naïve comments like this I can’t help but think about all the places I have been and know that Mexico could not, and as I will soon find out, cannot be grouped on the same level with India or Myanmar.

It is hard to make any sort of judgement about a city when your first glimpse is in the dark. I remember having a similar feeling during my first few hours in Cambodia, which soon evolved into one of the most amazing experiences of my life. My first impressions of Merida are unfairly based on the airport, which was hot, the queue at the taxi, which was overly lit and swarming with bugs – I didn’t even have my bug repellant on yet – and the ride in the taxi, which was bumpy and awkward. Riding in an enormous van for 200 pesos, about twenty dollars, the four girls in the program and Sharon made a quick stop at an ATM in the city since the bank was closed at the airport. I refuse to use an ATM, especially in another country, so I will be broke until tomorrow when I can locate a currency exchange. I was glad to see that Leah was waiting for the same opportunity. In the shadows of the night I saw what promises to be some beautiful architecture, though as I have seen it happen before, it could melt away from the ghostly silhouette of an exotic sleeping city with the first rays of the sun.

The outside of the Hotel San Juan leaves much to be desired and I could feel my heart sink as we approached the front lobby. It is simple, hot, and the rafters are dangling in dusty webs of gray that remind me ever so strongly of the Muratie Wine Estate in South Africa, a place you would never walk through completely upright, but bent forward so as to avoid the streamers of cobwebs, and hoping that they are not frequented by their creepy owners. After we reached the second floor, I walked around the corner to an inner courtyard overlooking a beautiful pool that has some pretty amazing potential for the daylight hours and is truly the only light in this dark tunnel. The pool sits expectantly at one end of the unlit courtyard reflecting the light of the moon and the various plants surrounding its walls. Small bistro tables are arranged at the other end with umbrellas, though everything is hushed to a quiet grayish blue tone in the night hours. Upon entering my room I was visually assaulted by a bright pink wall and frilly bright pink duvet on the bed, almost as if a flamingo had vomited on the sheets and walls. The furniture is well used, scratched and faded to a dull finish, but the bathroom, bed sheets, and floor all appear to be quite clean and I have yet to spot a creepy crawly of any kind, including those that appear to inhabit the lobby downstairs.

The first task involved tinkering with the air conditioning unit. Secretly, I was prematurely cursing our luck for being assigned the only room with a malfunctioning unit, when Leah coaxed it into life. I took a brief shower, which has a rather short wall and door that foreshadow some very interesting issues in privacy. In fact when Leah walked outside to talk Pablo, Garrett, and Patrick the door to the bathroom was sucked open and I was left hoping that Leah would prolong her chat until I had sufficiently finished my shower and retrieved my clothes. There is now a nice chill in the room and I am ready for bed, hesitantly, but ready nonetheless.

Leah and I chatted in the dark like best friends at a slumber party until falling asleep, and it is nice to finally have the opportunity to connect with someone else on the trip that is close to my age.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

I woke up this morning around six o’clock unable to go back to sleep. A grayish light is pushing its way through the twenty-four little glass panes on the windows, creating a gray and white checkerboard over the white sheets on my bed. Another beam of light is slowly creeping onto the white tile floor from under the crack of the heavy wooden door. My sleep was peaceful except for the back of my earrings pushing through the skin on my neck. Considering how hot it was upon our arrival last night I am left clueless regarding the state of my wardrobe today, knowing that I will be uncomfortable no matter what I wear. An hour has passed and I am hesitant to get up and disturb my roommate on the first day. I cannot wait to see the courtyard in the sunlight. I hope that it will be easy to locate a currency exchange this morning during our tour of the city so that when the lunch hour arrives I will actually be able to purchase food myself instead of ingratiating myself with someone else on the trip who utilized the ATM last night.

Breakfast was served poolside and consisted of pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice and coffee. After pancakes, I grabbed a small box of Frosted Flakes hoping they would serve as a last resort if my granola bars suddenly disappeared before my next meal. Our hotel is situated next to the beautiful park of Saint Lucia; there is a cambio exchange around the corner, and a pharmacy/drug store on the opposing street. Before departing for our tour, Leah and I walked down the street, passing colonial architecture, hotels much finer than our current establishment, and a colonial church where we discovered the cambio exchange, our pockets thicker after our departure from the Mexican pesos. We set forth for our tour from the Saint Lucia Park, spending two hours on an open bus seeing church after church after church. The air was extremely heavy and thick from the heat, which made it difficult to breath – the warm wind from the movement of the bus a welcome relief. Aside from the fact that I saw dozens of colonial churches, French and Spanish style mansions, and nearly twice as many parks as churches, I could not provide someone with the names or places that I traveled to this morning. We never debarked the bus for a walk in the various plazas, and for the most part nearly everything was better viewed from the left aisle of seats than from my location on the right.

Upon our return to the Hotel San Juan we ventured to the Palacio Canton, the Museum of Anthropology, taking much longer than I expected due to some over zealous photographers in our group. I am not sure why someone would want to document every single item in the museum, rather than actually see the artifacts at the sites themselves. Christa did not join us on our tour, and as a group we found ourselves down to six for the remainder of our siesta hours. We had to walk back to the hotel after the museum, and I am not exaggerating when I say that everyone, myself included, was dripping in sweat from head to toe. Leah calls it glistening, since the epidermis seems to take on a shiny, reflective quality, instead of a thick coat of sweat in a few regions. It was a relief to sit in the large throne-like chairs in the lobby for a few minutes before everyone decided that food was the next priority. I suggested the Café Santa Lucia around the corner, which overlooks the plaza, and naturally it was unanimous. I was particularly drawn to the place when we passed it earlier due in large part to its upscale appearance, and it did not disappoint.

Everyone decided to try a Yucatecan dish, except for Catherine who ate pizza. Catherine let me try her Chilada, a drink served in a tall glass with salt around the rim, limejuice and beer. It wasn’t too bad, kind of bubbly and perky in your mouth. Leah and I both enjoyed Queso Relleno, a chicken and green olive dish wrapped in melted cheese and served in a creamy tomato and cheese sauce that can be eaten as is or in a tortilla. It was extremely good, as well as filling, and I can see myself taking most of my meals there. It is certainly a convenient location, which means less walking, and as a result, less sweating.

During the last hour of my siesta at the Hotel San Juan, I could see the light passing through the twenty-four panes change from the warm yellow hue of a fierce sun to the cool periwinkle of a sky filled with melancholy rain clouds sent by yuum cháak, the god of rain. Our walk to the Palacio de Gobierno to see the Pacheco murals, a student of the famous painter and muralist Diego Rivera, was punctured by the sharp ping of raindrops on our heads and arms. We passed many sights and shops in a rush that I would like to visit in my free time for pictures and shopping. The rain continued to fall as we walked to the Unidad de Ciencias Sociales, which is where our Yucatec professor works, for a lecture on the henequen boom. With each leg of our outing we got farther and farther away from our lodgings, which means traversing an unknown path back to our hotel in the darkness of night.

After the lecture I went to dinner at Alberto’s, where the group was introduced to many friends of the program, including the famous writer Don Domingo Dzul Poot and an anthropologist from the University of Chicago, John Tuxill, who teaches the Yucatec program there, and the Yucatec Maya level two students. The inside patio of the restaurant was draped in exotic deep green foliage, which clung to the walls like an appliquéd quilt, interspersed with tiny sequins of light. It was already dark by this time so the interior of the restaurant was lit with candles, while the sound of rain plunked away on the tables in the overgrown patio. My feet were soaked from the rain, and I felt like a sticky blob sipping wine and waiting for my meal. It felt poetic, though surely ironic as well, when I heard Gabriel’s Oboe playing in the background.

Friday, June 20, 2008

I slept extremely well last night. The sun, heat, humidity, rain, and walking really takes a toll on your body. Dinner lasted until nearly ten thirty last night and so, after a quick shower I found it very easy to fall asleep just seconds after my head touched the pillow. This morning we walked back to the University for a lecture on Xocen. I have counted a total of six mosquito bites, all on my feet and ankles. In fact, I even have one on my big toe, which is slowly driving me to insanity. It is another unbearably warm day, but following the lecture this morning we have two days free, which means plenty of time in the pool.

We ate lunch overlooking the main plaza where I ordered an agua de jamaica, a cold drink made from brewing hibiscus leaves. It was extremely refreshing and the bright fuchsia hue pleasing to the eye. I was even more surprised that lunch only cost the equivalent of four dollars. We spent a good amount of time browsing a popular bookstore, where I bought a few children’s books about the Maya, unfortunately not written in Yucatec, but I will probably go to another bookstore near our hotel where I am told they have Maya literature. Finally, the time for shopping arrived and I purchased three items for two of my favorite people, sadly I haven’t been able to determine a gift for my third, though certainly not last, favorite person. We had planned to go to the market this afternoon, but after talking to several locals we discovered that it closes at three and that is only ten minutes from now. We are going to take a taxi to a restaurant this evening that Christa has recommended and I picked out a place for dinner tomorrow on the main square.

I can’t wait to go to Dzibilchaltun tomorrow and it seems that everyone besides Christa will join us. We have discovered that there is a cenote located in the center of the ruins, and that it is the only cenote within ancient Maya ruins that you can swim in. Though it is extremely hot, I am comfortable with out hotel arrangements, and knowing that things will change in two days makes me a little hesitant. Hopefully our next locale will be equally as comfortable. I can handle the lack of air conditioning, but please no bugs!

It is raining again, which leads me to believe that four o’clock will be the hour of wetness and misery here in Mexico. I had planned a dip in the cool waters of the pool, but now I am stuck indoors waiting for our dinner excursion this evening. We went to the UNAM bookstore where we stumbled upon s short collection of stories in Maya, which I bought in addition to a beautifully illustrated children’s book in Maya and Yucatec-English Dictionary so that I can cut out the middleman so to speak with the Spanish Dictionary. Catherine managed to contact the couple that runs Dzibilchaltun, and so we are going to have a ten o’clock tour of the site tomorrow morning.